


The Cat Guardian: Snowdrop

by I_Am_A_Silver_Lining



Series: The Cat Guardians [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Culture, Familiars, Frost Giants - Freeform, Good Laufey (Marvel), Humor, Laufey's Good Parenting (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) Feels, Nanny cat, Oc falls into universe, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Profanity, War, baby Loki, graphic depictions of gore, loki/oc stays platonic, permanent animal transformation, turned into a cat, why am i writing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:08:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26905627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_A_Silver_Lining/pseuds/I_Am_A_Silver_Lining
Summary: Barbra had no idea how this happened, one day she was human, next she was on all fours and fuzzy. She was clueless, the only thing she knew for certain was that she was freezing, tired and this tiny blue baby keeps pulling on her fur.OROC falls into Marvel during the Frost Giant/Asgard war and gets taken to Jotunheim where she adopts baby Loki because he is adorable.
Relationships: Loki & Original Character, Loki & Thor (Marvel), Platonic Loki/oc
Series: The Cat Guardians [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1942219
Comments: 40
Kudos: 256





	The Cat Guardian: Snowdrop

The Cat Guardian: Snowdrop 

  
  


Well, this was rather odd. 

Barbra was confused and also conflicted. Waking up as a cat was by far the weirdest thing she could have done to her. 

She was out with a friend, getting a coffee ( _ with pumpkin spice creamer, hell yes _ ) when things had gone weird. Her whole body had lit up with a pins and needles feeling, leaving her woozy and disoriented. She remembered falling unconscious, her friend’s worried face being the last thing she saw. 

Now she was here, on four legs with a tail and pointy ears. 

Waking up in a rainy forest of some sort, Barbra was feeling damp and cold. And after freaking out for a good hour, she had made her way to some rocks for shelter, hoping to conserve her quickly dwindling body heat. 

She tried shaking herself dry, like dogs do, but it helped very little. The newly turned feline was forced to wait out the rain and then until dawn, curled into a little, shivering loaf. She had several meltdowns during the night, screeching and clawing at rocks and shrubbery in despair and anger. If she still possessed opposable thumbs she would have thrown something. 

It was right as the sky started to lighten that Barbra sat down and thought. 

She was a cat now, and no clues had been left where she had woken up. There was no telling what brought her here, and absolutely no idea what had the power to change her into a cat. 

Looking down at herself, she could see solid bluish grey fur running along her body. She had short hair, probably floofy hair that was weighed down with water. Barbra would put money on being a Russian Blue, which she thought were gorgeous cats. So she had lucked out there. 

The first day of being a cat (the night not included) was her just trying to figure out how to walk and run without falling on her face. She stumbled around like a drunk idiot on the rough terrain for hours before she got the hang of it. The tail was odd, it helped her balance better than she ever could before, but there was a distinct sense of weirdness at having an extra limb that wasn’t there before. She often forgot about it and ended up either stepping on it or wacking it into something. 

The following week was similar with some small improvements. 

Barbra drank water from puddles and ate bugs and worms the first few days, bemoaning at the crunch of little beetles in her mouth and gagging on the soft bodies of the worms. She tried hunting, but she had no idea how to use her new senses to her advantage. 

She lucked out around day 4, finding a dead bird. She didn’t eat it, hell no. But she got an idea. 

She started digging holes here and there, grinding her paws through the dirt until she was deep enough she had to leap. She’d then grab leaves and twigs to cover it (not an easy feat with no hands). 

Barbra carefully ripped up the bird and set the traps, her stomach growling at the thought of meat. She made sure to stay away for a day, barely holding herself back from running to the trap every hour in hopes of food. 

She found a large stream, gleefully drinking her fill and diving for minnows in the shallows. A few mouthfuls of the wiggly creatures were enough to state the hunger pangs in her stomach and give her patience. She practiced her mobility in her paws for the day, carefully scratching numbers and designs into the ground and into wood. It was a long process, but in the end she had a somewhat steady paw. 

The next day brought great fortune, one of her four traps had caught a small hare. She was quick to pounce and snap the hare’s neck, hunger vanishing any hesitation she would have had. Her former practice paid off as she carefully ripped open the animal, skinned it and gutted it. She took note that it was surprisingly easy to cut through, her body seemed to be abnormally strong for her size and species. 

Placing the giblets on the reset trap, Barbra then carried the hare between her teeth and washed it in the stream. After the meat was thoroughly cleaned, it was laid on a large, green leaf that she had prepared before she had left. 

Now was the difficult part. Does she eat it raw and hope for the best? Or does she find a way to cook it? 

Her dexterity in her paws was getting better, but not enough to roast a full ass hare over a flame or even build a fire. So raw it is. 

‘I wish I had some salt,’ Barbra huffed to herself as she leaned down and began to eat. 

It wasn’t as bad as she expected. A little chewy and bland, but not horrible. The bones were fun to cronch and the marrow in the larger bones was actually really good. 

The not-horrible meal set the tone for the next few days. She was able to eat her fill of the rabbit over that day and the next, using the cartilage and left over bones as chum to attract more minnows. She’d check her traps every other day, sometimes finding small things such as odd looking squirrels and mice. Mice were weird to eat, small and crunchy and fit right into her mouth like a chicken nugget would. 

Barbra was quickly realizing she was larger than the average cat, or all the game was weirdly small. She estimated she was about three feet from nose to tail, her body alone was as long as a grown man’s torso. She’d bet she was larger than most young teens. Maine coon size, roughly. 

But overall, she was surviving. 

It was two months before something happened. 

Barbra had a system. Check traps in the morning, go to the stream and hunt fish, then spend the rest of the day either fixing up her little shelter or learning how to control her body. 

She had built a small shelter for herself, an old rabbit hole under a tree that she dug wider. She patted the sides down firm with her paws to make it sturdy, placing sticks along the entrance for both support and personalization. There were leafs and soft moss along the floor of the hovel, the largest amount in the far back as a bed for her. She had some smooth rocks from the stream lining the hovel. Anything to make this whole situation more bearable. 

She was getting lonely. With no interaction with anything other than game and fish, she was getting very upset. The most interaction she had was with a toad that lived along one section of the stream. She’d just sit and watch it for a few hours sometimes, never coming too close so she wouldn't scare it off. She didn’t want to eat it, she didn’t know how to identify poisonous toads. And it was her friend. As much of a friend a wild toad could be. 

His name was Derik. 

Barbra was watching Derik one day, the two months or so later, when something happened. 

Footsteps. Quite a few of them. 

They didn’t sound like deer or those strange moose things with tusks (those things looked weeeirrd). She slunk off into the undergrowth to see what it was and came upon the most delightful thing. 

Humans! A whole group of them. 

They were oddly dressed, looking like they walked straight from a ren fair in full armor and leathers. They carried bows and swords in their hands, with large packs on their backs full of what looked like a bedroll and some other things. 

They didn’t speak, just kept their pace. 

Barbra only hesitated a second before following them to wherever they were headed. Humans tended to head towards other humans, so she would eventually be led to a town of some sort and be able to go from there. Anything would be better than staying alone in this forest, slowly going mad from isolation. 

She followed them for a good few hours, trotting far enough behind that she didn’t spook them. Eventually, when the sky darkened, they broke for camp. 

Some of the people disappeared, probably to scout or patrol, while the others set up a fire and started cooking. 

Barbra watched from the underbrush, her excellent vision helping her stay far enough for safety. She waited until they were all settled and fed before making a move. 

Crawling through the plants and roots around her, Barbara purposely made some noise to alert the group of her presence. They all jumped to attention at the sound, drawing their swords and knocking arrows. 

Ok, that's terrifying. 

She made more noise, little chitters and meows as she moved to hopefully calm them down. She was a cat, not a threat. She poked her head out from behind a shrub, giving a small meow and whisker wiggle. 

Most of the group eased their stances, looking down at her in confusion. 

"Do my eyes deceive me, or is that a cat?" One male voice hummed through the clearing. 

"That's what i'm seeing." Another replied. 

Their accents were Norwegian; the Vs sounding like Ws and the Os sounding more round than an American or British accent would sound. But the weird part of it was how it felt to hear it. It was incredibly odd, as if the voice was coming through a filter of some sort. It made her ears itch. She tried to shake her head to dispel it, but the odd sensation remained. 

“Oh look at it” one of the people, a large, dark skinned man whose accent sounded more Icelandic, came over to her. Barbra remained still, allowing the man to reach a hand out to her even as one of his companions hissed in warning to him. “This liddel lady is not so bad, look at her.”

A large set of fingers began scratching at her head and Barbra was surprised by how good it felt. She pressed up into his hand as he stroked along her head and down her back. 

Ohhhh yeeeaahhhhh

This is amazing. 

Barbra loved being pet, this was great. She could feel her brain turning to mush as the man picked her up and held her to his chest, his arm under her back feet. 

“Look at her, she’s a big one! She’s half the size of me!” He was exaggerating, the man was alarmingly beefy, with arms the size of trees and a healthy looking gut. Not like the movie men and bodybuilders with their overly defined abs, but an actual gut with pudge. 

He was also very warm and smelled like sandalwood. 

“Njal, put it down! You have no idea where it’d be from.” A voice called from the other side of camp. A stocky woman with olive skin and thick braids strode forth, a stern set to her brow. Her armor was more ornate than the others, expensive looking with golden embellishments and fancy tassels along the front. 

Barbra wondered if she made it herself or commissioned someone. Was it authentic leather and metal or was it made of some lighter materials so she could wear longer? She even had a large sword in her hand, the scabbard discarded on the forest floor, and from the glint of the weapon, it was real metal. 

These were some intense LARPers. 

The two hummed and hawed at each other for a while, but Barbra was ignoring them in favor of focusing on the man’s large, warm hands, which were still petting her. 

The two seemed to reach some sort of accord, because Njal sat down with her in his lap and continued to pet her. He fed her bits of a game bird that the group had roasted over the fire, the taste of cooked meat tasted absolutely divine in her mouth. She made sure to show her appreciation through lots of purrs and face nuzzles. 

Barbra was quickly adopted by the group and dubbed the new mascot. She ate when they did, slept when they did, and walked when they did. She kept close to Njal, but the others were pretty awesome, too. Even the woman who had protested her being there at first warmed up to her quickly. 

They were also either very dedicated to LARPing or something was very wrong. They were throwing out town names with old sounding Nordic titles that she had never heard of, even in passing. They spoke of battalion movements and a war against Frost Giants who she greatly suspected was not just the name of the other Team. 

Then they started name dropping Odin and some other Norse characters she knew. Everything in her said that this was just some very dedicated cosplayers enjoying an extended game, but a small, tiny, itty bitty piece of her was freaking out. She did get turned into a cat, so being dropped in Viking times wouldn’t be out of the crazy ballpark. But she was still gunning for LARP. 

That was until they were attacked by a group of large, icy snow people that it kinda bitch slapped the shit out of Barbra. Being hurled into a tree by Njal, who then got punched by a giant blue fist two times the size of his head was quite the wake up call. 

The air dropped in temperature, the Frost Giants stood twice as tall as any of them, frost formed on the ground wherever one stepped. Their skins were blue with intricate swirling lines indented into them, and their eyes were bright red and filled with battle rage. They carried weapons similar to her party, only larger and some made of ice. 

The fight was not a long one and very unevenly matched. The Frost Giants had the upper hand and quickly swept the floor with their smaller opponents. 

Barbra watched in horror as, one-by-one, over half the party was slaughtered, ripped apart by large hands or sliced apart by larger weapons. In one awful moment, Barbra bore witness to one of the Giants grabbing a hold of the neck of a man, who froze under its grip. The skin beneath the hand turned a sickly purple color that quickly spread to the rest of the body, his eyes crystallized over and his body stilled. A quick yank had the body shattering like glass to the forest floor.

Gore quickly covered the ground, and the scent of blood and snow filled the air. 

The few of the remaining party bid a hasty retreat, but Barbra stayed in the tree, stiff with fear. 

The Giants didn’t bother to chase the party down, the group of them bellowing in victory and raising their hands and weapons to the air, thumping a fist to their chests and chanting something in sync. 

Barbra was pretty sure she pissed herself. Thankfully, cats don't wear pants. 

She stayed hunkered into the tree, hoping the group would not see her and leave her be, or at least long enough for her to unstick herself and make a hasty escape. 

But luck was not on her side and she felt a large hand clamp around her scruff and yank her from the tree. 

Barbra yowled and screeched, her claws lashing out as she dangled from it’s grip. There was loud talking in the group as the one holding her presented its find. The others peered at her curiously, their red eyes looking over her small furred body. 

Compared to their size, her larger than average feline body was the size of a somewhat small housecat to them. It was very concerning, especially as a few curious ones poked their fingers into her side and over her fur, one even grabbed her tail! 

Barbra was quite panicked at this point, her screeching going higher and her growls as fierce as she could make them. 

One of the giants laughed, saying something in its language to the others, who also laughed. It pulled out a knife and Barbra was sure she was going to die right then at there. 

Determined not to die with her eyes closed, Barbra dead-eyed the asshole who pulled a knife, hissing and spitting at it and the others with all the rage and adrenaline in her tiny body. 

A rope slipped around her mouth, followed by a net around her whole body, rendering her completely prone and helpless. Barbra was then tossed over the shoulder of the one holding her potato-sack style as the group began to head the way they came. 

_ Shit. _

**Author's Note:**

> YALL WEREN'T EXPECTING THIS!!!! 
> 
> Part Two in my Cat Guardian Series!


End file.
